


All the Way Down

by JC_Audetat



Category: The Office (US)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 04:18:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15235155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JC_Audetat/pseuds/JC_Audetat
Summary: Ryan was doing fine as Vice President of Regional Sales. Better than fine, actually. Great. He had the title, of course, and the paycheck. And he had friends. So many friends. There's no way his life could be anything but great at this point in his career. At least... that's what he had everyone thinking.





	All the Way Down

_Why can't they just... understand?_

     It seemed to be the prominent thought in his mind. His tired, foggy mind. It repeated like a mantra.

      _Why can't they understand? Why don't they see what I'm trying to do?_

     It didn't matter, though, Ryan finally decided. It didn't matter if anyone understood his intentions. It didn't matter if they hated him for his actions. It didn't matter if they held no respect for him. _He_ was Vice President, after all. Not them. The realization put a stop to the echoing phrases in his head, but not the throbbing behind his watering eyes. Ryan pushed himself up in his bed, fingers running through unkempt hair. Was he still wearing the same clothes he had been wearing the day before? It was dark out, maybe he just fell asleep upon returning to his apartment early yesterday morning, then slept through the entire Saturday. Or, maybe not. All Ryan knew was what he was feeling; immense fatigue in spite of the contrasting sensation of restlessness, hunger, a degree of confusion, and most of all, pain. His whole body ached, and it only worsened every time he moved. Once he stood up and stretched, Ryan could add nausea to that list. But he didn't notice so much anymore. It's how he ended up feeling almost every weekend. 

     Ryan stared down at his phone as it lit up, accompanied by vibrating. Who could be messaging him at... what time was it?

     "2:37 a.m." he breathed. "Nooo thank you." Ryan figured that whatever the message contained could wait. After rubbing his eyes, he turned toward the bathroom, seeking relief from the discomfort he was experiencing in the form of pills. He wasn't able to take so much as a step before there was a rapping on his door, a sound that caused him to stumble and nearly knock the lamp off his nightstand. "What the hell..?"

     He didn't answer the door at first, instead choosing to stay frozen in place. This wasn't normal. Another knock came, harder this time, though not necessarily violent. "Ryan?!"

     Again, Ryan jumped, but he finally began to make his way to the door. He hesitated only a moment before pulling it open to find Jim standing there, his face presenting a mixture of concern and frustration. "Wh--" Ryan coughed as his voice hitched, then tried again, "What are you doing here?"

     Jim looked at him as though he was insane. "What am I doing here? Ryan, you freaking texted me..." Jim pulled out his phone and scrolled through his messages. "Eleven times." He turned the phone around so that Ryan could see the screen. "Why did you say all this? You were obviously lying. I should've known that."

     "Uh..." Ryan squinted at the messages on Jim's phone. They all seemed so blurry. "Sorry, uh, I don't-- I don't remember texting you. When was that?"

     "Seriously?" Jim sighed with exasperation. "Like... two hours ago. Dude, what the hell is going on with you? I just drove all the way to New York because I thought you were in trouble, and you don't even remember texting me?"

     Ryan shook his head slowly. "No, I'm... fine, for the most part." He shivered slightly as the air conditioning came on. "But, uh, do you want to come in? I can make some coffee." Without waiting for a reply, Ryan went into the kitchen to do just that.

     "Mh. Sure. Thanks." Jim closed the door behind him and looked around the apartment, surprised by its quaint size. "Been a while since you cleaned, huh?"

     "Oh," Ryan said, stepping away from the coffee maker as it began to run. "I guess." He leaned awkwardly against the counter, arms crossing over his chest. It concerned him a bit how easy it was to feel the ribs beneath his shirt, and the frantic, strained beats of his heart within them. There was little time for his mind to linger on these details, as Jim spoke again.

     "You really don't remember why you wanted me here?" There was an obvious edge to his voice, though Ryan was also picking up on another tone. Something he couldn't quite identify, yet.

     Again, Ryan shook his head. "Really, I don't. I... was probably drunk. My mind is all screwed up right now, I can barely remember anything that's happened in the last twenty-four hours. Wait-- what day is it?"

     "Well, now it's Sunday." Jim rubbed his face and yawned. "Look, now that I'm here, there's something I might as well talk to you about."

      "You want to know why I've been such an asshole."

     "Took the words right out of my mouth."

     Ryan pulled two mugs from where they were drying next to the sink, proceeding to fill them, then handed one to Jim, who nodded thankfully. "Uh, let's sit down." He moved some items from the kitchen table and put them on the counter before sitting.

     Jim followed suit, choosing the chair directly across from Ryan. A third of his coffee was already gone.

     "I know... I know I've been really hard on you. On everybody."

     "Understatement of the month."

     Ryan shot a glance at Jim over his mug. "Can you just, wait until I'm done? Please? I'm trying to say something here."

     Jim raised his eyebrows, but said nothing else.

     "Anyway. I'm trying so hard, okay? It's-- this job, it's a lot to handle. My mind is all over the place, all the time. There's always someone who's unhappy. Nothing I do is ever good enough for everybody. Everyone wants something different, and--and I can't--" His throat tightened, rendering him unable to speak. He tried taking a sip of coffee to clear whatever was impeding his speech, but to no avail.

     "Ryan?"

     "Hold on, I'm-- I'm sorry. God, why is this..." He felt the hot tears streak down his face, and wiped them away promptly. Ryan never cried in front of anyone (except for the one or two times he did when he was with Kelly). It made him feel exposed, weak, and powerless. He hated it, but it wouldn't stop. He was just so tired... "Damn it, can you give me a minute?"

     Jim got to his feet and moved to the other side of the table, standing beside Ryan. "C'mon," he said, one hand extended. "You've got to go to bed, you're obviously tired, and so am I. Let's just drop this for now."

     Ryan stared apprehensively at the hand Jim offered him before taking it and standing. "Thanks," he muttered, his voice nearly inaudible.

     "Mhm."

     "Really, thank you. For coming here."

     Jim pursed his lips, then replied, "Yeah. No problem."

      "And, I'm sorry." Ryan wrapped his arms around his shivering frame as the nausea he had experienced earlier returned. He wanted to fix everything he'd done, both to his fellow employees and to himself, but he knew it was too late. An apology meant nothing, coming from him.

     "Look, Ryan..." Jim sighed, trying to figure out what he could say. What is there to be said to someone who made it their duty to screw people over? "You... used to be a decent guy. I don't know what happened to that. If you could somehow, just, be like that again..." Jim had no idea what he expected himself to say after that, but it definitely wasn't what came out of his mouth. "I miss that version of you."

     No reply.

     "Nothing?"

     "Sorry. I hear you, I do, but, uh..." Ryan's face was drained of color, and his vision was shimmering at the edge. "You should probably go now. Thanks again." His words were hasty, as he could feel acid begin to rush up his throat. Immediately, he ran to the bathroom, not bothering to see whether Jim had left or not. Much to his surprise, he realized after throwing open the toilet seat and kneeling on the ground before it that Jim followed him, and had one hand on Ryan's back while his body shuddered and heaved strenuously. "Fuck, it hurts..."

     Jim was sincerely concerned for Ryan, at this point. He may hate the guy, but he was still human, and still suffering. "What hurts?"

     "Everything... I'm a fucking mess." As if to prove his point, Ryan got sick again, then sat back and wiped his mouth.

     "What the hell happened to you, man?"

     Ryan let out a forced chuckle, then winced. "I'd rather not say."

     But Jim knew. He'd seen enough cases like this in college. Ryan just had to get it out of his system. “Alright,” he almost-whispered, pulling Ryan back and helping him to stand. “You good?”

     “Uh…” Ryan sounded breathless. He was trembling horribly, and his brow dripped with sweat. He wanted to say that, no, he wasn’t good. That he didn't want Jim to leave. He detested the loneliness, especially when he felt like this. But all he managed was a quiet “Yeah.”

     It was obvious to Jim that he wasn’t being truthful, but what could he do, anyway? For the moment, he nodded, then guided Ryan to his bed. “You probably shouldn't go to work tomorrow,” he stated. “Maybe not for a couple of days.”

     Ryan pulled the sheets around himself as he leaned back against his headboard. “I have to. It'll be fine.”

     The huff of exasperation from Jim could have been heard across the apartment. “Mkay. Well, if you're settled here, I'm gonna go…” He turned to leave, but ended up just standing, staring at the ground, scratching the back of his head. Jim glanced over his shoulder and waited a moment before he queried, “Hey, uh-- it's really late, would you mind if I…” He trailed off, as if realizing how ridiculous his request would be. “Actually, you know what... nevermind. I’ll see you next week.”

     “Wait—”

     “Hm?”

     “You can stay on the couch, if you want. That’s what you were going to ask, right?”

     “Oh,” Jim half-smiled, ashamedly. “Yeah, but, it's fine. Thanks.”

     Ryan nodded, then paused. Already, the cold, empty feeling of loneliness seeped into his racing heart, and it was evident in his voice. But he had nothing to lose. “Can you-- can you please stay for tonight?”

     Jim was taken aback, unable to respond immediately. Was this the same man he had been working with for nearly four years? Nothing Jim had seen tonight was what he expected from what he thought to be a supremely controlled person. Ryan’s brazen demeanor had given way to vulnerability and fear, emotions Jim never thought someone like Ryan Howard was capable of having.

     Before Jim got a chance to answer, Ryan continued, “I just figured... it's better than having you drive so late. Or early… whatever.” His body protested the use of energy for talking as much as he was, and each word took effort, so that by the end of his sentence he was ready to pass out. Ryan wouldn't have noticed if Jim had just walked out and shut the door behind him. He did notice, however, when Jim sat beside him on the bed and took Ryan’s slight frame in his own much larger arms, serving to surprise him yet again.

     “Yeah. Okay. I'll stay.”

     Relief washed over Ryan immediately. He hadn’t made a complete fool of himself, and he had someone by his side for the night. The newfound sense of comfort was still accompanied by the severe aching in his head and abdomen, but nonetheless, he felt better. Ryan allowed himself to lean into Jim, welcoming the warmth it felt his own body was failing to produce.

     “Just for the one night.”

     Ryan nodded sleepily.

     “And this doesn't change anything. Right now, you're someone who needs help, and that's what I'm giving you. But tomorrow, it'll be like this never happened. Okay? Unless you do something with yourself, you can't expect anyone to forgive you. You can't seek sympathy. It won't be there.” Jim absently stroked Ryan's stomach with his thumb as he spoke. It was difficult to say the things he was, as he currently didn't believe his own words, instead feeling immense pity and guilt. He knew that he'd feel differently tomorrow, and that he was probably just tired at the moment.

     Another nod from Ryan. Silent tears continued to occasionally roll down his face while he listened to Jim, and he knew Jim was right. Both of them would forget about this night in which Ryan exposed his vulnerability. Upon their next encounter, everything would be the same. He'd still be the cocky, arrogant man he’d seemed like before, and Jim would still despise him and everything he stood for. “Okay,” Ryan said. He wasn’t sure which path he'd take. But, being who he was, it was most likely that he'd remain the way that everyone knew him.

     At this time, though, they didn't have to pay any attention to the coming days. They needed only to focus on now, with Ryan's feverish cheek on Jim's chest, and Jim's arms wrapped around Ryan's much-too-thin middle. Jim hushed Ryan as he wept only moments later, desperately wishing he would seek help, but knowing it would never happen.

     The final hours of early morning seemed to drag on without end—but, eventually, the sun made its appearance through the curtains, and Jim knew he was to leave. Ryan had finally fallen into a fitful slumber by then, so the taller man had to be sure that he was careful in standing, and making his way out of the apartment soundlessly.

     Neither Jim nor Ryan would remember that night a week from then. As Jim had said, everything was exactly as it had been before. Then, not too long afterwards, Ryan was arrested for committing fraud, and Jim didn't feel so much as an ounce of remorse. Ryan knew what he had to do in order to get better, to cure this illness of the body and the mind, and yet, he did nothing. This was all on him, no one was going to fight for him. Just as Ryan had feared, he was, once again, totally and completely alone.  


 


End file.
